Smile
by writerbymoonlite
Summary: Behind every smile, there is a story. It just so happens that Italy's is not a happy story. May be a sequel.
1. Chapter 1

Set before Italy met Germany, and a bit before he and Romano were unified.

This is just kind of a headcannon, but pretty widespread.

Meh, anyway, hope you enjoy, and thank you very much for reading this little fic!

I'll accept critique, so please rant away- just, please not anonymously, and please not just utterly bashing my writing, without any true criticism. That hurts feelings.

PLEASE REVIEW, though! You will make little old me very, very happy.

Oh, and I don't own any characters or anything like that, obviously, they're Himaruya's.

I'll shut up now. Enjoy!

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People look at him often.

Closed eyes, cheerful grin, these are his trademarks, and so it's no surprise that everyone assumes that little Italy Veneziano is nothing but a ditz, a simpleton.

This couldn't be farther from the truth.

Sure, he wears a smile.

But has anyone ever bothered to look behind it?

His heart aches with one simple fact- a fact that haunts him, keeps him awake most nights in a week, makes tears come to his eyes whenever Mr. Austria asks him to clean up nowadays and he sweeps, because he remembers.

He once had a nice little push broom, made out of what was surely fine wood- Mr. Austria would accept no less- and he would use it every day, cleaning the pretty wood floors and the elaborately tiled ones with all the pretty colors...

He loved that broom.

But he loved the strange boy who lived in his house so, so much more.

And when the boy went away, little Italy with tears in his eyes ran and gave the boy his first kiss and his push broom.

And little Italy waited and waited, every single day drawing a picture, or writing a letter, for his love, and sending it away with the messengers.

Never did he receive one from the boy.

Never did he receive word about the boy.

Never did he see his boy again.

That is, never physically. But the dreams haven't stopped. His image has not been forgotten. No.

His image is etched in Italy's memories for eternity.

It's a never-ending, never-healing scar on his heart, irreparable and everlasting.

Brokenness is usually not something associated with a smile.

And yet that- that very thing- is what hides behind the expression on Italy's face.

It's all that keeps him from the pain tearing him apart.

All it ever will.

* * *

Okay, hope you liked, please review, if I'm not lazy there'll be a sequel. ^_^

~_wbm_


	2. Chapter 2: Repair

It was my birthday yesterday, July 18. . It's now 2 AM, I'm fifteen, and here's your birthday present.

* * *

"Things that are soft," he says gruffly, embarrassed, "like candle flames, blankets, kittens, easy chairs- these are what you must think of. Your worries weigh you down far too much for you to relax. Think of them, and then brush them away, like dust on your favorite jacket."

Ludwig gently kisses Feliciano's forehead, his cheeks shaded a soft pink, and rolls over to his side of the bed, his back to the smaller man.

Feliciano closes his eyes and snuggles close to Ludwig, despite the serious nation's coldness, and whispers softly, as if to himself, "You remind me of a boy I once knew... Kind and sweet and gentle, his cheeks would flush like yours when I said his name. He always walked with his shoulders back and chest high, like he was king of the world, and yet would stop and smile shyly whenever he saw me. He had blonde hair and big, pretty blue eyes, and Germany, I miss him... I miss my..."

His voice falters. He cannot continue, cannot speak the boy's name any longer. It is a long-remembered, well-kept secret, and he will not let it go now. Long has it been since his brother, and Austria and Hungary, have forgotten him, but Italy will always remember.

Ludwig rolls over again and tucks the Italian nation into his arms, the boy's auburn hair soft against his chest.

For a moment, Ludwig feels a sense of déjà-vu as he leans down to kiss the Italian's tears away, but he brushes the feeling away.

Feliciano sighs softly, and whispers three little words for Ludwig before he slips into the realm of dreams.

"I love you."

Feliciano will always remember his first love. But with Ludwig by his side, healing him slowly with every kiss and whispered word, he has decided.

Memories are for another day, for when they are old men like Wang Yao and have seen all that the world can offer. But right now, as they live amongst all of the world's excitement and fresh youth, Feliciano cannot help but grasp tight to Ludwig's hand and show him happiness, true happiness, in his smiles.

Because a fake smile is for the days of sadness, and brokenness, clouds and dark skies.

And with Ludwig, the skies can only ever be sunny.

_~End~_

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I hope you liked it. Please review. 3

_~wbm_


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